“I need help in here! Hello?” Chey called out as loud as she could.
She didn't know if anyone else was still alive to come to their aid.
*
Sander found five dead bodies in his search. Every pale or bloody glimpse of skin had taken a year off his life. No matter what else happened, people he considered family and friends, not just employees, had perished. He also found two survivors, none of which were Chey or his children. Sander handed the survivors off to several arriving medics and returned to his search.
Clearing three half damaged rooms, he moved closer to a more decimated area, forced to pitch pieces of debris aside to make any progress. He had scraped knuckles and a banged up knee, but disregarded the minor injuries while he sought more victims—and his family. His chest was tight with suppressed panic.
“Chey!” He cupped his hands around his mouth, calling forward in hopes to hear something. Anything. He called for his kids, too, and heard an echo from somewhere beyond the next damaged room.
Mattias's voice.
Making it through what used to be a doorway, Sander stood inside one of the informal living areas, now three-quarters decimated with the far wall blown out, exposing the opposite hallway in another wing. He saw Mattias sifting through the rubble.
“Thought I heard something in here,” he shouted.
“Hello? Sander?”
Sander's heart stuttered when he heard Chey's voice. Distant, faint, coming somewhere beyond a pile of broken furniture and debris from a partially collapsed ceiling. “Chey!”
He pushed through, careful where he stepped and where he tossed damaged pieces of debris. If Chey was here, his kids were likely not far away.
“She's on the other side,” Mattias shouted.
“I hear her!” he shouted back.
“I can't find Elias! We need medical attention up here for Emily and Erick.”
Sander quelled a rush of nausea to hear Chey hadn't found Elias. He worried about the damage to his other two children while he made progress through the room, bellowing for the medics. He came upon Chey, kneeling on the ground, holding Erick to one side of her body while bracing several sections of wood and plaster above a moaning Emily. Soot streaked, dark hair wild around her head, Chey looked to be in good shape despite a few scrapes and a trickle of blood below an earlobe. The relief he experienced was brief.
In minutes he'd cleared enough of the debris so that Emily could sit up and crawl to Chey. She had a cut on her head, several bruises on her cheek and one on her arm, but didn't seem to be suffering any broken bones. Internal damage, he couldn't say. He expended a single moment to kiss the three of them on their heads before he shouted for Elias.
“Over here!” Mattias called.
Sander twisted to look where Mattias was helping Elias out from under an overturned coffee table. He saw that Mattias had shoved aside a small settee to get to his nephew.
“Elias!” Sander kicked remnants of a vase to the side. Elias coughed, appearing disoriented as if he'd just come to, then threw his arms around Mattias's neck.
“Dad,” Elias murmured, holding tight while Mattias navigated his way to meet Sander in the middle. Sander exchanged a look with Mattias before taking his son in his arms.
“Dad, I can't breathe,” Elias complained with a cough.
“I know, I'm sorry.” Sander hugged his eldest son tight, then loosened his hold. He didn't want to exacerbate any internal damage his child might have suffered.
“Chey and the kids all right?” Mattias asked, as the men made their way back to her.
“I think so. They all need to go to the hospital to be checked out.” No one was missing arms or legs or appeared to be experiencing extreme amounts of pain. Sander sent up a silent prayer of thanks.
Reaching Chey, who had both kids in her arms and was pushing to stand, Sander used one arm to hug her, Erick and Emily to his side. He needed a minute to feel their breath, hear their soft noises, feel the warmth of their skin. To reassure himself this was real, that they were alive.
“I'm so glad you're all right,” Sander murmured to the lot of them. It was a wild understatement. “Let's get you out of here. We'll take the hallway, it's clearer at the back.”
Sander guided his family out of the mess, meeting up with medics who had finally made their way to this floor.
“I want radio silence when you transfer them to the hospital,” Sander said to the emergency team. They were his men, from his country, foretold by the clothing that differentiated them from foreign medical teams beginning to arrive on the scene. “Under no circumstances do I want it announced over any radio—or phone for that matter—where my wife and kids are going. Use the private entrance at the hospital and take extra security with you.”
“Wait, Sander. You're not coming?” Chey asked, turning her soot streaked face his way.
Sander pressed a careful kiss to her mouth, holding Elias snug against him, one hand cradling Emily's head. He said, “I can't. I have to search for survivors, Chey. There are a lot of people still missing. Tell security to send a coded message to my men here if there's anything life threatening for any of you and I'll come right away.”
“I understand. Be careful. I don't like the thought that this might not be over.”
“Exactly. I'll be careful.” Sander kissed each one of his children and hugged them one more time, hating to be parted from them after such a short reconciliation.
He sent them with the medics and several security that had arrived to escort the queen and his heirs to a waiting chopper.
Sander glanced at Mattias. He read the same relief in his brother's eyes, yet also concern that the attacks might not be over. “I was told Imatra suffered an attack as well. Heard anything about it?”
Mattias looked surprised, then frowned. “Nothing. Do you think it could be the Russians, like Konstantine said?”
“I don't know. I just don't know. Let's look for survivors and we'll see what's going on after that. The military is on high alert. Hopefully they'll radio in with an update soon.” Sander feared another attack might happen in the big city of Kalev or that troops would swarm the borders before Latvala was ready.
As he returned to the search with Mattias, Sander recalled Konstantine's last words at Kallaster castle: Before this week is through, you will be groveling to take me up on my offer, mark my words.
Chapter Eleven
The search and rescue—and recovery—lasted into dawn of the following day. Eighty-three people had perished in the attack on Ahtissari castle, which by now had made headlines world wide. Sander mourned every loss, from security to kitchen staff to several high ranking advisors. Most of the men and women working side by side with the king and the princes performed their tasks in silence, their faces bearing proof of their internal grief. Many had been friends with the deceased.
Sander received updates from Urmas on Chey and the children's status. A few stitches, bruised ribs, scrapes, and a couple of sprains was the extent of the damage. The physical damage. Psychologically, no one could say. Children overall tended to be very resilient in the face of tragedy, but Sander suffered for them nevertheless. He hated to think it would scar his kids for the rest of their lives. They were alive, however, and for that he was eternally thankful.
Standing near a military vehicle in the bailey, Sander tipped up a cold bottle of water and drained half in one go. His clothes were filthy, with rips and tears from climbing through the debris field. Mattias, Gunnar and Leander looked the same. They had tirelessly sought survivors through the night, taking few breaks in between. Coming in bursts from news reports, Sander had learned that at least four hundred people had died in Somero, and another hundred and fifty in Imatra. Konstantine's capital had been hit, with two civil buildings the target of a bombing.
Sander didn't know what to make of it. Three countries, three separate attacks, all before the 'due date' on the Russian note. There had been no mention of bombings—then again, the note ha
dn't specified what might happen should Imatra neglect to comply. That the Russians had bombed Latvala and Somero made little sense to Sander, considering neither had received any kind of formal letter, as Konstantine had, nor any forewarning of an attack.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Via code, through an intermediary in his army, Sander sent a message to the security detail to move Chey and the kids to a safe house in Kalev. A safe house with a large bunker underground that should—should—protect them if more bombs fell.
In the hours following, Sander learned that the explosion had come from a suitcase left on the premises of Ahtissari castle. Someone had smuggled it inside and detonated from a remote location. With as many people that came and went, it wouldn't be easy to track down the perpetrator. The log of visitors had gone up in the blast, making the task harder.
Urmas informed him Somero and Imatra had both suffered the same kind of attack, with a bomb left behind in a bag or a briefcase. The coordinated assault had been planned—but by who?
Catching up with Mattias and Leander a while after that, Sander ran a hand through his disheveled hair, staring up at what used to be the family seat. He felt strangely violated, as if something once precious had been stripped away. Sander had not had a wonderfully happy childhood, at least not where his father was concerned, but he'd grown up here with his brothers and that meant more to him than anything. The history behind the castle meant something as well. He avoided the place, yes, but he wouldn't have ever dreamed of bringing the structure to ruin. A dominant part of his children's legacy was now nothing more than a scene of destruction. They could rebuild, of course, and probably should. That didn't detract from the knowledge that the structure itself had suffered a significant amount of damage and that the integrity of the castle might now be in jeopardy. There was something to be said for the memories locked within these walls, walls that would never be the same again. Many important portraits of his ancestors had been spared—some had not. If he had ever thought someone would take such a drastic measure against him, he would have had each and every one committed to a safer haven.
“So far, there have been no more reports of attacks elsewhere in the country,” Mattias said, brushing chalky dust from his pants. His clothes were as ruined as Sander's. Leander, too, sported a few tears in his dusty pants and soot marks on his hands and forearms.
“Or Imatra and Somero, for that matter. I'd like to get my hands on whoever the mastermind is,” Leander said with a shake of his head. He stared at the decimated castle with an expression of disgust and dismay and subtle flickers of anger.
Sander understood the anger. At times, he'd been so furious it was hard to continue the search. He'd wanted to switch to the perpetrator, focus all his energy on bringing the entity responsible to justice.
He still couldn't believe any of it had happened. A direct strike in the heart of Latvala was a devastating blow. His family had nearly lost their lives. Although Latvala had not escaped its own mayhem and strife, they had also never experienced a bombing of this magnitude. All these years, he'd struggled and fought to bring the country back from his brother's meddling, and now there was some new adversary to worry about. Other countries and nations the world over were experiencing serious issues of terrorism and turmoil, and he had counted himself lucky not to be involved in it. He did not want Latvala to become embroiled in territory disputes which might send his country to war for years.
“Yes, I'm with you, Leander. I'd like ten minutes alone with the person who orchestrated all this. I'm sure Thane feels the same,” Sander said.
“Konstantine?” Mattias asked.
“I can't tell if you're asking whether I'd like to speak to him, or whether I think he's behind it,” Sander said. “The latter doesn't seem likely though. Not with an attack on his own soil.”
“Your Majesty, you need to see this.” Urmas strode toward the men with an electronic device in hand.
Sander peered down at the screen as Mattias and Leander crowded closer to see as well. Urmas turned the sound up as a news video began to play. Konstantine stood before twenty microphones positioned on a podium, his face a mask of stark concern and concentration.
Konstantine looked at the mass of gathered reporters and said, “As you all know, a devastating explosion rocked Imatra yesterday, killing more than a hundred and fifty people. Innocents, citizens who didn't deserve to die. Last week, I received a threat from a Russian commander to allow Imatra to be brought into Russia's fold, a threat I took seriously. In my quest to remain independent of the Russian hegemony, I sought the aid of King Sander Ahtissari of Latvala.”
Sander muttered a few colorful curses and said, “Here it comes.”
Konstantine, reading from a paper in his hands, continued after whispers from reporters quieted down. “I approached the king as a desperate measure, asking for help after the Russians attacked and killed several of my troops near the border. King Ahtissari flatly declined. In retrospect, I can understand that he may not have had all the information he needed at the time. But I'm asking now, pleading with King Sander to reconsider the terms I asked for upon my visit.”
Sander tuned out when Konstantine began listing the buildings and amount of damage, and started taking questions from the press.
“Well, we know what that was all about,” Leander said.
“A public knock on me, that's what,” Sander added, snorting in disgust. He rubbed his face with his hands. “Konstantine should know better than to address something so crucial in front of the media.”
“They'll hound you now, even more than before,” Mattias said. “They'll want to know what the terms are. Konstantine isn't stupid enough to say that on live television.”
Sander shot his brother a doubtful look. “He's broken protocol. There are just some things that should never make it to the media. I suppose he feels pressured, however.”
“You're not thinking of joining Latvala with Imatra, are you?” Leander asked, sending Sander a concerned look.
“Of course not. We all need to secure our own borders. At the very least, I'll have my armies fight alongside Thane's and maybe Imatra, if it comes to that. But I won't consider giving up our sovereignty. The Russians or whoever it was that bombed us will have to kill me first.” Sander wasn't about to be bullied or coerced despite the dire circumstances.
Urmas, who had been listening intently, said, “You'll get your chance sooner than later to question Konstantine. This was recorded hours ago and he has already sent a request for a meeting later today.”
“That bastard really is going to press for unification,” Leander said in disbelief.
“He's running scared,” Mattias replied. “Konstantine isn't cut out to be king. He's got grandiose ambitions that are not in the least feasible or reasonable and, in my opinion from the rumors I've heard, is running Imatra by the seat of his pants. Someone comes knocking on his door and bam, he's fleeing to the neighbor for help—and thinks Sander is stupid enough to hand over the kingdom simply because a disaster has struck. He's delusional.”
“Tell Konstantine my answer is still--” Sander paused. He considered his options while Mattias, Leander and Urmas waited on his reply. “No, tell him I want the meeting. Later, in Kalev. Arrange it for the penthouse in the hotel but don't tell him or his security where they're going until they get there. If he or his guards balk, then send them home. I'm not giving out my whereabouts freely right now.”
“What have you got up your sleeve, old man?” Leander said, squinting curiously at Sander.
“I'm going to find out exactly how much he knows, and whether he's withholding information. My inner alarm bells are still going off, and it doesn't all have to do with the catastrophe I'm staring at.” Sander couldn't explain his suspicions or the lingering feeling that Konstantine knew more than he let on.
“Well. You did wonder if he was bluffing about the photos. Maybe you're onto something. I don't know if that means he knew an attack was immi
nent and meant to strong-arm or scare you into merging countries, or if he actually had a hand in the planning—then got surprised with an attack on his own country,” Leander said.
“We can't rule out anything. All of us here are well aware of how much propaganda and misinformation gets spread between leaders, advisors, ambassadors and the media in general. Everyone's got a different story to tell, and most of the time, there's a lot more going on behind the scenes than people ever hear,” Sander added.
“I'll arrange it,” Urmas said, and walked briskly away.
“Maybe you shouldn't meet up with Konstantine alone,” Leander said once Urmas was out of earshot.
“I'll be careful. I doubt he'd do something brazen, like bring a weapon into the meeting. The hotel has its own security as well and should detect anything on him when he enters,” Sander said.
“Good. Let us know what he says. You'll have to talk to the press sooner than later. Or do you want me to take care of it?” Mattias asked.
“Actually, yes. Would you? I'll prepare the statement and you can read it in my stead. I want to see Chey and the kids before I hit the meeting with Konstantine, so I'll write it sometime between now and then.” Sander let out a slow breath. He needed to calm his mind to write something coherent and cohesive.
“All right. We'll see you later. Should I tell the press that you'll make a statement tomorrow?” Mattias asked. “I can fill in today, but I think the people will want to see you in person to make sure you weren't a casualty of the blast. As well as other heads of state. I'm sure everyone is on pins and needles, wondering if you're really alive.”
Sander snorted. “I'm sure the vultures are circling even though they know that you'll take the throne in the intermediate time until Elias is old enough to accept the responsibility. Yes, I'll make an appearance tomorrow.”
A Royal Legacy Page 9
